by Malinda Lo
“Is the fortress guarded?” Con asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Then we might have the advantage of surprise,” Con suggested.
Taisin frowned. “The fortress is surrounded by open sea. I think we would be visible from quite a far distance.”
“Then she could kill us before we even step foot in her fortress,” Kaede said. She leaned against the table, her arms crossed.
“True, but…” Taisin trailed off, biting her lip.
“What is it?” Kaede asked. “What are you not saying?”
“I think… I think she will allow us to come.” Taisin seemed hopeful and frightened all at once.
“Why?”
“Because she will not think we are a threat. We are three humans with a tiny little dagger.”
Con rubbed at his chin, considering Taisin’s words. He wondered what Tali would do, and a pang went through him. He looked at Taisin, pale-faced and stiff in her chair carved out of a tree trunk, and then at Kaede, who had dark shadows beneath her eyes. He had known Kaede since they were children; he could remember her in pigtails, chasing him and her brother across the broad palace courtyards. He remembered that her eighteenth birthday was today; she was of age now. But he could not shake the feeling that all of this had come too soon for her, and Taisin was just as young. Tali would never let them take the risk of going after Elowen. Tali would have done it himself.
“Elowen has to be stopped,” Con said, “but I will do it.”
“What do you mean?” Kaede asked. “The Queen said—”
“I don’t care what the Queen said. You’ve been carrying that dagger, but I can’t let you kill her, Kaede. I’ll do it.”
“Con—”
“You’re not going to do it,” Taisin protested. “You can’t face her. She is very powerful. She’ll destroy you.”
“If she’s so powerful, she can destroy you, too,” Con argued.
“I’ve felt her,” Taisin objected. “I’m the only one who has a chance against her. You can’t do it.” She clenched her hands in her lap stubbornly, but inside, doubt swirled. Elowen was so strong; Taisin had no idea if she could actually defeat her. She only knew that Con—or Kaede—would be defenseless against her.
Kaede was watching Taisin closely. She pulled a chair out from the table and set it in front of Taisin. She sat down, her elbows resting on her knees, and leaned toward Taisin as she looked her in the eye. “You seem to want to do this yourself,” Kaede said, “but I don’t think that’s a good idea.” There were only a couple of feet separating them now, and Kaede felt as if that space was pulsing with the beat of her heart. Taisin’s cheeks turned pink, but she did not look away. Kaede almost forgot what she was going to say. She took a shallow breath. “If we go, we go together. You and me and Con. We’ve made it this far; we have to stay together.” She looked up at Con. “Do you agree?”
He crossed his arms. “Only if you both promise that neither of you will attempt to face her alone.”
“I promise,” Kaede said. “Taisin, do you?”
Taisin’s stomach quivered. She closed her eyes, rubbing her hand over her face as she remembered the vision of Kaede leaving the shore. Con had stayed on the beach with her. She hoped they would be able to change that future. “Yes,” she said at last, reluctantly. “I promise.”
“Then we’ll go to this fortress,” Con said, “and we’ll do this together.”
When the Huntsman came to their door later, he did not seem surprised by their decision. “I will put things in order,” he told them. “We will leave in the morning.”
Chapter XXXI
It had not taken long for Taisin to pack up her belongings. Her knapsack waited by the door, and she lay in bed unable to sleep. Supper had been subdued, and Taisin had fled to her room afterward to avoid Kaede. But now, lying here in the dark, Kaede’s face was all she could see.
If she had to describe it to someone else, she would dutifully relate the obvious details: light brown eyes, a pleasant nose and chin, and a mouth that smiled easily. But such a description omitted all of what made Kaede’s face so extraordinary to Taisin. The mischievous gleam in Kaede’s eyes when she saw something funny; the way her eyebrows arched in exaggerated reaction to Con’s jokes; the shape of her lips, and the warm, firm texture of them.
Taisin approached the memory of their kiss gingerly, as though it were a wild beast that might knock her down, and yet part of her hoped it would do just that. If she was to be a sage, she would have to turn away from that beast forever. She would never be able to marry; she would not even be allowed to take a lover. And though she had only had the briefest taste of what she would have to give up, she understood now why sages made that vow. The desire that had awakened within her was like a fog descending on a mountain valley, filling every hollow, slipping between tree limbs, tickling every leaf with its seductive breath. It left no room for the calm contemplation necessary to do a sage’s work. And though Taisin had only ever wanted to be a sage, now she wondered how she could possibly deny this feeling inside her.
She splayed her fingers across her heart; she felt the rhythmic beat there, the rise and fall of her lungs beneath. Her body was like a new thing to her; she had never known this ache before. It made her skin flush and her eyes dilate, and some part of her marveled at the focus of the energy that ran through her. All it wanted was one thing: to consume her entirely. To drive her up out of bed in the dark of midnight, to slip barefoot into the corridor between their rooms, and to deliver her, trembling, to Kaede.
Kaede was asleep, dreaming of a hunter running lightly through the Wood, a quiver on her back. She would sight her quarry and draw the arrow as smoothly as if her body were made of quicksilver. The arrowhead was cold as iron. It was Fin’s dagger, protruding from the graceful wooden shaft like an eyesore—and then the shaft turned into her hand.
There was a sound that Kaede later recognized as a door closing, and she awoke to find Taisin standing beside her bed.
Confused, her body tingling into awareness, Kaede whispered, “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Taisin said, her voice barely audible.
Kaede pushed herself up, heat coursing through her. “Do you need something?” Kaede asked, flustered.
Taisin’s hands flew up to cover her mouth, whether to hide embarrassment or laughter Kaede wasn’t sure, but a sort of half-choked sound emerged from her, and Kaede said, “Is it about… last night?” It wasn’t until the words were out that she realized what they were, and perhaps if she had been awake when Taisin arrived instead of deep in a dream, she might have never had the courage to continue. But now, still shaking off the musty fog of sleep, she said all in a rush, “I didn’t mean to upset you, Taisin. I know you’ll be a sage, and I’m sorry I kissed you—if I could take it back—”
“Oh, no,” Taisin said quickly, firmly. “No.” She came to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, and Kaede felt everything sink toward her. “Don’t ever say that,” Taisin whispered, a catch in her throat, and now Kaede was more awake than she could ever remember. She heard Taisin’s breath quickening, and as they leaned toward each other she could smell the scent of her skin. She wanted to put her nose against Taisin’s throat and inhale all of it, all of her. She bent her head toward the shadow of Taisin’s neck; her mouth brushed over the fluttering of her pulse.
Taisin was wearing an old tunic, the cloth soft with use. Some of the buttons were coming loose, and when she unbuttoned the first one, it hung down on a single thread. She took Kaede’s hand in hers and put it on her skin, and gooseflesh rose at the touch of her fingers. Kaede moved her hand, tracing the shape of Taisin’s collarbone. She pushed the tunic back, and Taisin’s long black hair brushed over her bare shoulders. And then Kaede leaned toward her and they kissed again. Her mouth opened; she breathed her in.
Taisin remembered the way it had felt when she pulled life into that tiny purple blossom, the torrent of energy through her body. She reme
mbered the way that power rippled through Elowen like molten ore, hot and precious. This was even more exquisitely immediate; there was nothing between her and dizzying sensation. Here was the touch of Kaede’s fingers on her skin, and there the soft insistence of her mouth. Taisin felt as though there were a thousand purple flowers blooming inside her, a sea of them, each opening her black eye to the sun, trembling to see the wide-open sky.
Taisin slid into sleep so easily; her body was at ease, vulnerable.
The ice fortress swam into focus almost immediately—she was there again, standing at the window overlooking the beach. This time she felt as though she were merging into the body of the woman who stood there. Elowen. She formed the name on her lips, asleep in the tower room with Kaede beside her, and she felt the woman in the fortress come alive. Elowen turned her head just slightly, as though she sensed a presence nearby. She left the window and walked toward white velvet curtains hanging against the icy wall. There was a silver cord dangling from the ceiling, and as she pulled it, the curtains parted and revealed a mirror. It was made of glass like all mirrors, but there was something different about this one, though Taisin could not at first discern the difference. All she knew was that she was gazing at the reflection through Elowen’s eyes, and she saw a beautiful woman there.
She was tall, willowy, with long, golden-white hair that swept to her waist. She had yellow-brown eyes and sharp cheekbones, and her lips were the color of a bruised pink rose. Her skin was milky white and smooth as a newborn’s. She wore a gown of white silk belted with a gold chain, and her fingers were covered with jeweled rings. When she moved her hands, they flashed in the brilliant sunlight: diamonds, rubies, sapphires.
She smiled at herself in the mirror, and Taisin felt her own lips turning up at the corners. Elowen said to her: “You know my name, but I do not know yours.” Taisin heard the words as though she were standing in that frozen palace with Elowen; she heard them as though she had spoken them herself. Fear flooded through her as she realized that Elowen could see her, too. As Elowen sensed her agitation, she threw back her head and laughed. The sound echoed.
Taisin did not at first realize that Elowen had begun to push into her consciousness. They were already so close. They were breathing the same breath; their veins ran with the same blood. Taisin felt disoriented; she felt doubled. She couldn’t tell where Elowen ended and she began. But in that round tower room in Taninli, her shoulder bumped against Kaede, and Taisin drew a breath all on her own, and she remembered who she was. She nearly awoke, but Elowen reached through that mirror and held her there, transfixed, half asleep, half aware, as she demanded, Who are you?
Taisin pushed back. It was like running in quicksand, trying to extricate herself from Elowen’s power. It was like struggling against a cold, fierce current, and she was afraid she would drown. But she fought her way up, remembering the grip of the freezing river Kell, and when she came to the surface, just as before, Kaede had her arms around her.
She gasped, drawing breath after greedy breath in the dark of Kaede’s tower room.
Kaede was whispering to her, stroking her hair back from her damp forehead.
Her blood was roaring, her heart pounding.
Kaede gathered her close and held her until her lungs felt like they were her own again.
“It was her,” Taisin whispered.
“Who?” Kaede asked.
“The Fairy Queen’s daughter.” She would not say her name.
“What do you mean?”
“I saw her,” Taisin said, and she knew that Elowen was angry.
Dawn was breaking, spreading soft pink light across the eastern sky above the city. Kaede propped her head up on her hand, looking down at Taisin’s pale and tired face. She ran a finger over the line of Taisin’s mouth.
“She knows who I am,” Taisin said.
Kaede’s hand stilled. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Taisin whispered, but fear filled her. She felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She reached up and pulled Kaede down, pressing her face into her neck. She could not forget the way that Elowen had engulfed her, all power and might, and she had no idea how they could possibly kill her.
Chapter XXXII
They breakfasted together, sitting at one corner of the table with their knees touching. Despite the shadow of Taisin’s vision, they felt enveloped in an enchantment: one in which even the drinking of tea was as magical as any fairy glamour.
When Con came out to join them, Taisin and Kaede hastily scooted apart, but the expressions on their faces were so plain that he laughed out loud. “I see that things have changed,” he observed, and Kaede flushed so deeply she couldn’t look at him.
The Huntsman came to collect them shortly after breakfast. He told them that the Fairy Hunt would accompany them to the northern edge of the Wood, and then they would have to continue on without their Xi escort. “We will not travel through the lands that she has taken for her own,” he explained as he led them through the palace to the outer courtyard.
“But how will we find her?” Taisin asked, hurrying to catch up with his long strides.
“You have a token of hers,” he said.
“I do?” Apprehension quivered in her as she tried to think of what she could be carrying that had been Elowen’s, and then her stomach dropped. “The medallion,” she said, and the alarm in her voice caused the Huntsman to stop and turn back to her. “Is that how—why I have seen so much of her fortress?” she demanded.
The Huntsman regarded her pale cheeks and wide, dark eyes, and said as kindly as he could, “If you were already sensitive, then yes, her medallion may have enabled you to see more of her.”
Taisin felt for the chain around her neck and pulled the medallion out. It was black and opaque, as usual, but she felt newly aware of it, and now she wondered how she had ever not known that it once belonged to Elowen. “How did she lose it?” she asked.
Sadness washed over the Huntsman’s face. “She left it behind when she left Taninli. It was a gift from the Fairy Queen.”
He came toward her and touched the black stone with a gentle finger. A tiny glow burned in the stone for a moment. “It wants to be reunited with her. It will show you the way.”
Taisin closed her hand around the medallion, intending to take it off; she wouldn’t wear Elowen’s chain around her neck. But at the last minute, struggling against an equally powerful desire to keep it, she slid it back beneath her tunic. When she felt the stone pressing coldly against her skin, she was disconcerted by the sense of relief that flooded through her. The Huntsman nodded at her as if she had made the right decision. “The longer you wear it,” he said, “the more it also becomes yours.”
In the courtyard, half a dozen riders of the Fairy Hunt awaited them, along with riding horses and packhorses loaded with canvas-covered gear. Con did not see their own, ordinary steeds, and he asked, “Where are our horses?”
“They are resting for your return journey back to your kingdom,” said the Huntsman. “You shall ride our horses as far as you can. The dogs will take your supplies the rest of the way.”
Eight dogs, each with thick gray coats shading into white bellies and paws, had been led into the courtyard by a thin, spry Xi woman. She spoke to the Huntsman in their language, and her green eyes glanced quickly over the humans. She said nothing to them before she left, but she bent down to her dogs and each met her nose to nose in a solemn farewell.
They left Taninli by the same route they had taken through the city when they arrived. At first the few Xi they saw were simply going about their business as usual, but as they descended into the streets, more and more Xi emerged from their homes to watch them ride past. Once again, Kaede had to look down to avoid their eyes. She couldn’t bear to see the doubt in their faces—or, even worse, the hope.
Outside the city gates they turned north, leaving the boulevard almost immediately and riding straight into the Wood. The manicured trees quickly turne
d wild, and within an hour of leaving Taninli and its pocket of summer behind, the air began to carry the bite of cold. The horses and dogs moved swiftly—more swiftly than horses or dogs should move, Kaede thought. When she looked ahead of them the trees were a bit blurry, and the dogs blended into the landscape, running silently over fallen leaves. She felt increasingly detached from her body as the day progressed, and it would have disturbed her if her senses had been more alert, but instead, she felt a kind of haze that prevented her from doing anything but staying in the saddle.
At night they stopped beside a bubbling stream to water the animals, and the Xi set up small, strange tents in the spaces between trees. They were round, like bubbles made of canvas, stretched tight over ingeniously bent poles. Kaede crawled into the one the Huntsman told her was hers, and she slept as soon as she lay down on the fur-covered pallet.
The next morning she emerged from her solitary tent, and one of the riders gave her a horn cup full of a hot, bitter drink. It was shocking on her tongue, and when she looked up she saw a barren landscape around her. Tree branches that should have been heavy with green needles were stripped clean, as if a giant had come and swept them bare with his fingers.
A dog butted against her leg, and she bent down to stroke him. His brown eyes regarded her with gentle curiosity, and then she saw Taisin come out from a nearby tent, and soon Con emerged from another. There was no time to do more than wish one another a good morning, for the Fairy Hunt was readying to go, and they thrust cups of the hot drink into Con’s and Taisin’s hands and told them to hurry.
They rode again.